


Feels Like The First Time

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m ready,” Rachel says, a little steadier, her hands only shaking a little. She nods like she’s convincing herself again. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like The First Time

Her heart is beating against the inside of her chest and she’s sure Rachel can hear it over the music they started listening to, but abandoned a little while ago, because kissing is a better way to spend the limited time they have alone.

Rachel’s dads aren’t supposed to be home for another two hours, at least, and Quinn is going to make the most of; listening to the  _Funny Girl_  soundtrack on repeat is not “making the most” of anything.

When Rachel makes a noise in the back of her throat, Quinn grins and moves her hand again, brushing it across Rachel’s skin so lightly that she’s not even really touching Rachel. There’s the noise again and Rachel’s breast arches into her hand, warm skin pressing against Quinn’s air-cooled fingers.

“Easy,” Quinn whispers, smirking down at Rachel. The brunette opens her eyes and bites her bottom lip, looking away. Quinn shakes her head and grabs Rachel’s chin, pulling brown eyes back. “It was hot.”

Rachel snorts and her hands on Quinn’s waist slide down, tracing nonsensical patterns on the bare skin of Quinn’s thighs, just below her shorts and just above her knees.

She says it so quietly that Quinn doesn’t hear the first time and she’s already leaning back down, biting the soft skin under her hand when Rachel’s hands slip into her hair and pull her head back up. Rachel shimmies until her bare back is against the headboard of her bed and Quinn scoots back, sitting on her shins. Rachel fiddles with her hands and then seems to realize she’s shirtless and crosses her arms in front of her chest like her dads are going to walk in any second. Quinn tugs absently at a loose string on her shorts and waits.

“Rach, what’s wrong?”

They’ve done this before: kissing; kissing and hands moving over clothes above the waist; kissing and hands moving under clothes; kissing and shirts coming off and bras staying on and then bras coming off. Rachel tells her a few times that they’re going a nice even pace but Quinn doesn’t really think they are; Brittany and Santana definitely had sex the first time they ever made out and compared to that, her and Rachel are practically moving backwards.

Usually, Rachel biting her lip and looking nervous is adorable, endearing even, but Quinn keeps looking at the clock and her mouth was having fun and this sitting around thing is killing the mood.

“I’m just thinking,” Rachel says, annoyed. “Give me a minute.”

Quinn nods and wraps her fingers around the straps of her Cheerio red sports bra. “You do that. I’ll do this.”

When Rachel doesn’t even look up, Quinn knows it’s something serious and she sighs, pulling it back down. She opens her mouth, to ask what’s wrong again, but Rachel is leaning forward, arms still crossed over her chest, so she closes her mouth and waits expectantly.

“I think I’m ready.”

Quinn’s mouth drops a little – if her mother saw her now, she’d snap about flies and closing her mouth and Quinn would actually be  _horrified_  if her mom were here now – and she makes no effort to close it back up.

“I’m ready,” Rachel says, a little steadier, her hands only shaking a little. She nods like she’s convincing herself again. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Do it?” Quinn repeats numbly.

Rachel colors slightly, but keeps her gaze locked on Quinn. “Well, that’s what people say, right? I mean, that’s what Santana calls it and I thought that ‘making love’ would sound dated, so I thought if I said ‘do it’ you’d be okay with it,” Rachel rambles.

Quinn can’t find it in herself to stop Rachel. “Do it,” she says again, weakly. “You want to have sex?”

Rachel’s eyes widen. “Yes,” she says, except she doesn’t sound sure. Her eyes widen even more, almost comically, and she groans, throwing an arm over face, exposing one side of her torso. “Oh  _God_ ,” she murmurs, words muffled.

“That’s blasphemy,” Quinn says lightly. Rachel’s body goes still and then it’s shaking again but when Rachel lowers her arm, she’s smiling and her eyes are shining. “C’mere,” Quinn beckons, even as she leans forward.

Rachel’s back still against the headboard, Quinn traps her in place and kisses her swiftly, resting her knees on either side of Rachel’s body.

“It was cute,” she says against Rachel’s mouth.

Rachel shakes her head and her nose bumps against Quinn’s with each twist of her head. “In my head, it was much more seamless proposal.”

“You wanna do the dirty,” Quinn sings, scooting up even further, dragging her mouth along the curve of Rachel’s mouth.

Rachel blanches. “No, that’s not what I want to do.”

Quinn pulls back and looks at Rachel. She sighs and brushes back some hair that’s fallen over Rachel’s forehead. They’re talked about it before, or tried to at least. For someone with two gay dads – and a somewhat liberal household – Rachel got flustered quickly when it came to sex and when she told Quinn she was a virgin, she had seemed mortified until Quinn said there was nothing wrong with that; she was too.

 “Rachel,” she whispers quietly, as if there’s someone listening to them, “we don’t have to do anything. We can keep kissing, okay?” As if to prove her point, she catches Rachel’s bottom lip between her own and sucks a little, smiling when Rachel kisses back.

“I want to,” Rachel says again, a little more sure-sounding than the last time. She nods. “I want to. With you,” she adds.

It makes Quinn melt a little bit, because she somehow thought it would be Rachel and  _Finn_  having this conversation someday.

So Quinn nods wordlessly and tries to remember where to put her hands, because she saw a video once, when she went to Santana’s house that week that Mr. and Mrs. Lopez went out of town, but she can’t think about how it went and Rachel must see that because she smiles a little and brings her face forward, kissing her lightly.

Quinn finds it almost humorous that Rachel is taking control; like she knows what she’s doing.

“Let me just,” Rachel trails off, the tips of her fingers sliding up under the elastic of Quinn’s bra, pushing up. Quinn folds her arms over her head and Rachel pulls it up, catching one strap on Quinn’s ear, cursing under her breath. “Now we’re even,” Rachel says breathlessly.

She watches, mesmerized, as tan hands slide across her stomach, moving up slowly through the space between her breasts, over her ribs and across her collarbone.

“You’re beautiful,” Rachel whispers, leaning forward to bite down on her collarbone, kissing the sting away.

Quinn pulls herself out of her head and smirks, trailing her fingertips across Rachel’s back, following the lines of muscles. Rachel arches against her again, and it’s not the first time they’ve been pressed together, skin on skin, but it feels like it, because this time they’re moving with purpose; they have a destination in mind and Quinn’s wanted this for a while now.

She actually  _giggles_  when Rachel’s hands ghost across her stomach again. Rachel ignores her and slides her hand lower, running her hand to the edge of Quinn’s shorts, dipping down below the elastic waistband and Quinn forgets to breath.

Rachel smiles nervously. “Is this okay?”

Quinn nods insistently and shifts back a little so that Rachel’s knuckles aren’t digging into her belly button. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Rachel’s hand moves lower, past her underwear line and Quinn’s body rises, rocking off Rachel’s thighs, seeking more contact. Rachel chuckles under her breath and Quinn reacts, moving her hand from where it’s gripping Rachel’s shoulder blade and down over stomach muscles, past Rachel’s waist, pulling Rachel’s skirt down fluidly.

She smirks and presses her hand against Rachel’s panties, pulling back just as quickly, because her hand comes back damp and warm.

Rachel looks away sheepishly, her hand completely against Quinn.

“You really do,” Quinn says breathlessly. “Want this, I mean.”

“With you,” Rachel answers, the hand inside Quinn’s underwear twitching with conviction. Quinn’s hips jump.

It’s pseudo-confidence that makes Quinn smirk instead of smile sweetly. Her other hand drifts down until she’s gripping the back of Rachel’s knee, pulling her flat on her back. Still smirking, she settles on either side of Rachel’s waist.

Rachel’s hand doesn’t move and Quinn’s smirk fades as she looks up and catches Rachel’s gaze – Rachel looks like she has no idea what to do, or how to do what she thinks she wants to do.

So Quinn rolls her hips forward and Rachel’s hand brushes against her and Rachel sits up so quickly and Quinn doesn’t move fast enough and she reels back when Rachel’s forehead crashes against her own. The pain sears and her eyes water and she lets herself fall backwards, her knees bent under her, Rachel hovering.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Rachel is grabbing her face, pulling at her eyelids.

She slaps at wandering hands. “I’m fine. Stop,” she commands.

Rachel freezes instantly and looks down at Quinn with wide eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“ _No shit, Sherlock_ ,” is hanging off the edge of her tongue, but she swallows the words and smiles instead, cupping Rachel’s cheek, ignoring the throbbing in her skull. “No permanent damage.”

Rachel smiles back like she knows Quinn is lying and Quinn takes advantage of her situation – Rachel is hanging over her, and there’s so much skin Quinn  _isn’t_  touching. The brunette groans , her lower body pressing against Quinn’s and they’ve done this before; this is familiar territory.

When Rachel gets brave again, Quinn’s body tenses under the soft touch, closing her eyes. They open when nothing happens.

Rachel is hovering again, her hand pressed where it was before and she’s staring down – her face twists the way that Brittany’s face does when she’s looking at a math problem. The brunette looks up and shrugs wildly. “I have no idea how to do this,” she admits.

If she didn’t look so dazed, Quinn would find this amusing.

If she’s honest with herself, she  _does_  find this amusing.

“I mean,” Rachel continues, “I looked it up and I’ve seen diagrams and there was a particularly instructional video I saw once, but,” she trails off, biting her bottom lip again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Quinn doesn’t know what to do either. There was health class once, but now there’s all different parts and Rachel is expectant and Quinn has this feeling in the pit of her stomach that this isn’t going to be as great as Santana made it out to be.

“Okay, well, just,” she mumbles, leaning up on her elbows, reaching down and grabbing Rachel’s wrist, molding their hands together. She lets out a thin, even breath and pushes their hands forward, her gasp drowned out by Rachel’s.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Rachel says suddenly, her voice high. “I think we should reevaluate the situation.”

“Rach, I-”

“No, see, I had a plan and this wasn’t even supposed to happen today. There were going to be candles.” Quinn holds in her snicker. “Candles,” Rachel rants, “and music and it wasn’t going to be on a Sunday while my parents are gone for a couple of hours. I was going to practice first and-”

“Practice with who?” Quinn growls and her hand on Rachel’s hip flexes possessively.

Rachel’s eyes go wide,  _again_. “With  _myself_ ,” she whispers hoarsely. “Who did you think I,” she shakes her head. “I was going to practice and then I would know what to do. And I didn’t because that’s what I was going to do tonight. Now I don’t know what to do.”

So Quinn sits up, to kiss Rachel, to shut her up, but their hands are there, awkwardly stuck between their bodies and she hits herself in the chin with her own elbow as she untangles her fingers from Rachel’s. Rachel’s hand is pressure between her legs but she shifts a little until she doesn’t feel like she needs to take deep breaths and kisses Rachel.

“Stay still, I guess,” she says against Rachel’s mouth, waiting until Rachel nods shakily before Quinn rolls her hips again.

Rachel whimpers and Quinn thinks maybe they  _are_  doing this wrong: Quinn’s sure that  _she’s_  the one supposed to be making those kinds of noises, but her body is moving on its own now; pushing forward, pulling back, pausing, pushing forward, pulling back.

She tells herself to relax and when she flexes her hands, Rachel lets out a moan of relief and she thinks that maybe that’s why Rachel was whimpering in the first place, so she leans forward, eyes half-closed and finds Rachel’s mouth, kissing her sloppy and wet, and she’s trying to keep them controlled and neat, but Rachel’s hand slips and she’s gasping for air as something inside of her tightens, hard, almost painfully, then lets go.

Her face buried in Rachel’s neck, she tries to catch her breath. “Sor-sorry,” she pants out.

Rachel’s body shakes. “It’s okay,” she says, running her free hand from the top of Quinn’s forehead down around her ear, tucking away the loose strands. “Did you…?”

Quinn wants to laugh. “Yeah,” she sighs.

“And I wasn’t, uh, bad right?”

She pulls back and smiles wearily. “No. No, you weren’t.” Quinn feels something like a surge inside of her –  _second wind_ , a smriking Santana has told her before – and she rolls so that Rachel is pinned beneath her.

It’s not the smoothest roll; the movies make it look much easier than it is. Her foot gets tangled in the blankets shoved down carelessly at the bottom of Rachel’s bed; Rachel tries to roll the same way as Quinn and they crash a bit; her hands get caught under Rachel’s body; Rachel’s hand is still moving slowly inside of her and this is supposed to be about  _Rachel_  now.

Quinn smiles brightly – as brightly as she can – and leans over Rachel, kissing a path down from behind her ear, over her neck and across one breast, then the other, tugging Rachel’s hand out of her shorts gently, wincing when Rachel’s thigh immediately takes its place. Her tongue laving against Rachel’s smooth skin above her belly button, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of Rachel’s underwear and pulls down until they’re at her ankles and she’s staring up at Rachel from the foot of the bed.

She knows what she’s looking at, clinically.

She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Rachel smiles her fake, sure smile again and reaches down, tugging Quinn back up the bed by her arms, kissing her solidly. “I’ll walk you through it,” she says, her tone cocky. Quinn snorts and lets one finger slide from the underside of Rachel’s breast, down her stomach and trace Rachel’s invisible panty line.

“I’ll figure it out.” Quinn smirks and runs the finger through damp heat.

She remembers something about teasing and not pleasing – or maybe Santana made it up – and she’s sure it’s a good idea, but Rachel makes a noise in the back of her throat and Quinn thinks that  _pleasing_  all she wants to get to.

So she goes for broke and looks up at Rachel, waiting until the brunette nods, shakily, and then her finger slides down, pressing in. Rachel’s body goes still and a hand flies down, gripping Quinn’s wrist, holding her hand still.

“It’s okay,” Quinn coos. “It’s okay.”

Rachel’s grip eases and Quinn moves her single digit in and out for a minute before she drops her middle finger down and in. Rachel tenses again but her hips cant towards Quinn’s hand, rocking in a rhythm Quinn can’t follow, but decides not to try.

She sets her own pace, her thumb sliding back and forth every so often and it doesn’t take long –  _longer_   _than me though_ , she thinks bitterly – before Rachel is wrapping a hand around Quinn’s bicep and squeezing, biting down on her lower lip hard enough that Quinn is afraid she’s going to draw blood.

Quinn frees her hand and shimmies back up so that her face is pressed against the curve of Rachel’s shoulder. She kisses softly and bites lightly and Rachel stops shaking by the time she’s made her way to Rachel’s neck.

“What?” Quinn asks, because Rachel talks. Rachel talked the first time they kissed and the first time they made out and the first time Quinn palmed her breast and the first time Quinn took her shirt off.

Rachel makes a noncommittal noise so Quinn lifts her head, props it up on her elbow and frowns.

“What?”

“It just,” Rachel says, stopping to frown. “Was that it?”

Quinn chokes on her laugh and it comes out as a strangled gasp. Rachel’s eyes are wide, mortified.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says quickly.

“You thought it was bad?”

“No. No, no, no,” Rachel insists. “I just-”

Quinn let’s her head fall back against the pillow with the softest thud.

Rachel groans. “That was the wrong thing to say.”

“I am  _not_  bad at sex,” Quinn says firmly.

“Well,” Rachel starts, immediately shaking her head when Quinn’s gaze snaps towards her in a glare, “No. You’re not. You’re  _not_.”

When Quinn doesn’t acknowledge her, Rachel drapes one leg over Quinn’s, kneeling up. She smiles coyly and uses on her hands to hold Quinn’s hands still when Quinn tries to bat Rachel away. Using her other hand, she traces a straight line from Quinn’s belly button to damp curls. Quinn’s body jerks up and hazel eyes go wide.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to do it again,” Rachel says matter-of-factly.

“I don’t want to,” Quinn huffs.

Rachel dips her hand a little and smirks. “Are you sure about that? Because I think your body disagrees with you.”

“The body,” Quinn says, internally wincing at the way she sounds like her mother, “lies all the time.”

“ _Your_  body doesn’t.” Rachel’s smile fades into a sober line. “If you don’t want to, I won’t. I just thought we could, again. To be better.”

Quinn sighs heavily, throwing an arm across her face, biting into her skin to stop her smiling from peeking out from behind her bicep. “God,” she groans. “Do you have to be the best at  _everything_?”

There’s silence so Quinn puts her arm down slowly and Rachel is straddling her, staring down at her, eyes and mouth serious.

“Yes,” she says evenly. A tense moment later, she smiles and Quinn sighs again.

“For the record,” she starts.

Rachel lifts her head back up from Quinn’s collarbone. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

Rachel’s face melts and her eyes go wide again, but they sparkle almost and Quinn is embarrassed.

“It’s what people say after they have sex, right?” Quinn asks nonchalantly, like she hasn’t been thinking about the right time to say those three words for a while now.

“Right,” Rachel whispers, sinking her fingers into Quinn. When Quinn doesn’t respond, Rachel looks back up again and smirks. “Let the record also reflect that I love you too.”

“You better,” Quinn mutters. She leans up on her elbows, biting at Rachel’s bottom lip quickly, then drops back to the pillow. “I’m not bad at sex,” she grumbles lightly.

Rachel bites down on her hipbone. “Practice makes perfect.”


End file.
